


Is That My Sweatshirt?

by brandyovereager



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandyovereager/pseuds/brandyovereager
Summary: Aelin is sick and takes comfort in her boyfriend's sweatshirt.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 114





	Is That My Sweatshirt?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tumblr prompt "Is that my sweatshirt?" "Most definitely not."

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was sick as hell, and it was Lorcan Salvaterre’s fault.

Technically, Aelin had caught her cold from Elide at their last movie night, but Elide only had it because Lorcan had given it to her, and that meant the whole thing was his fault.

Thanks to her fever, Aelin’s apartment felt damn freezing. As a result, she was currently rolled up in a blanket on her couch wearing thick knitted socks, her warmest flannel pajama pants, and the ridiculously cozy sweatshirt she’d managed to steal from Rowan.

Aelin had no idea what it was about the sweatshirt—or men’s sweatshirts in general—but it was the absolute perfect loungewear. It was thicker than any sweatshirt Aelin had ever owned, it was humorously gigantic—her boyfriend was a gods-damned behemoth of a man—and it had a gradually fading pine scent that made her feel safe.

She really needed to sneak it back into Rowan’s possession for a bit, just long enough for him to wear it and get his scent all over it again. Of course, then she’d have to discreetly steal it again…perhaps she could just rub it all over him while he was sleeping…

Anyways, today was a day when she desperately needed the comfort of her beloved boyfriend’s sweatshirt. She was beyond exhausted. It had been miserable for the last twelve hours, and a pine-scented snuggle—entirely draped in the large article of clothing—was the only thing she could stomach the thought of.

Aelin was half-asleep when she heard her front door open. There were a few people who had keys to her apartment—Lysandra, Aedion, Elide, and Rowan—but she wasn’t expecting any of them. She shifted her weary body just enough so she could get a look at her visitor.

When she was met with the concerned eyes of her boyfriend, she felt a tired smile appear on her face.

“I thought you had work tonight?” He had told her as much earlier.

“I left early, couldn’t focus thinking of your invalid self here all alone.” He was wearing his patented I-love-my-bitchy-girlfriend smirk. “What did you say in that text you sent me? I believe it was ‘I’ve been left here to die by all you healthy bastards’, or something equally peeved.” She met his wicked grin with one of her own.

“How very sweet of you to come to my rescue,” she crooned, “now make yourself useful and heat up that soup that’s been trapped on my top shelf.” He laughed at her and then moved towards her cabinets.

“Why do you even put things on that shelf if you know you can’t reach it?” He stretched his arm up to grab the can of soup, lifting up the hem of his shirt to reveal a strip of skin bordering back and ass—yes, having him get the soup was a great idea.

“It gives me an excuse to have my boyfriend do things for me,” and ogle him as he does so. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as he turned back around to start preparing the soup.

“Do you need any medicine?” Aelin checked the time to see if she was due for another dose.

“I could do with some more Tylenol, the fever seems to be returning.” She saw his face grow visibly concerned before turning to open the pill bottle.

“Has your fever been really bad?” Aelin wanted to scoff in exasperation.

“Well, unless you also find that my apartment feels like the Arctic, I’d say it’s been pretty bad.” Rowan brought over a glass of water and the tablets for her fever. He helped her sit up and handed her the items, watching to make sure she got them down alright.

“Guess that means I’m gonna have to smother you with my body heat. Now, let me get in here.” Rowan sat beside her on the couch and curled himself around Aelin. It was quite nice, having both the comfort of the sweatshirt and the extra pine-scent of Rowan wrapped around her.

As Rowan went to adjust the blanket around them, Aelin felt him pause.

“Is that my sweatshirt?” She froze, cursing herself for getting caught.

“Most definitely not.” Aelin tried to casually take a sip of her soup, hoping her fever hid her blush.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” That damn buzzard of hers was smiling too wide, and it was downright wicked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Nope, it’s mine, all mine.” She would not give him the satisfaction of her admitting it.

“So what you mean is, no matter who may have purchased it, that sweatshirt is staying in your closet?” Oh, he may be a teasing pain in her ass, but he is certainly a keeper.

“Exactly, glad we have that understood.” She could still feel her blush as she smiled softly, finally meeting his eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind so much if you borrowed it every once in a while. It’s kind of nice when it smells like you.” She was minimizing things, but he could see right through her.

Rowan pulled Aelin tighter and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Find me on tumblr @brandyovereager


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